


Glittering Eyes

by killerkitty15



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: A litte bit, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Familiars, Fantasy, M/M, Magic, Obsessive Behavior, Original Character(s), Plague, Resurrection, Rituals, Romance, Secrets, Vague
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-06-21 02:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15547278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerkitty15/pseuds/killerkitty15
Summary: In his final moments, all the Apprentice could think about was Asra.Asra had never once stopped thinking about his love and he refused to live without him.This is what happened from the Apprentice's death to his resurrection.(Will contain smut in the final chapter)





	1. Part Ⅰ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I yanked out of his grip, pissed that he’d try to blatantly manipulate me like that. “Don’t you dare,” I warned with a harsh glare that had him balking; I ran my hand through my short hair before slinging my bag across my body, “We have a duty to the people here, Asra. We grew up here, my family’s shop is almost as old as the Countess’ bloodline-- I will not run away from here!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been playing this game for a while and I am obsessed!! I love the world the creators of the game have come up with and I just HAD to do a fan fiction about it. This story will have a few chapters and the first ones will be relatively smut free (Rated T if anything) but I will add some juicy bits at the very end, as is my ways.
> 
> Two notes I feel I should make:
> 
> 1\. The Apprentice's name I'm using is the one I use when I play the game (yes, I use male pronouns in this because... well most my creative processes involve BL/Yaoi in some way so don't question me).
> 
> 2\. I have nearly finished Asra and Julian's routes but I haven't completed most of Nadia's, so I will primarily be combining and reworking both of their routes in my story. Needless to say, I may be skipping plot points because I haven't finished Nadia's route but I'd like to ask you to just... forget that. As stated in the tags (etc) the ship will be Asra and the Apprentice so even though I'm using aspects of Julian's route, in my story, they've never had a romantic relationship, only a friendly, professional one.

The sickness hung in the air, thick and heavy, more so than in Vesuvia, where people used to tense, point and whisper at the infected, branded by the blood in their sclera. The Lazaret echoed with the pained wails of the sick, smelled of vile bodily fluids and the burning bodies of the dead; there was little doubt in my mind that the negative energy would stay on this island for years to come. I wouldn’t let myself regret my choice to help these people, even though I was currently occupying a cheap bed in a row of a dozen other beds just like it. Everything had a red haze to it, my vision swimming as I coughed and vomited blood like everyone else, my body wasting away, unable to retain enough solids and liquids to work properly. I wouldn’t let myself regret… except…

 

> _“Io, please, we still have time…!” Asra begged, desperation leaving deep lines on his face as I packed my bag, preparing to work alongside Dr. Devorak before I would begin treating the infected rather than study the plague, “Stop this foolish crusade--!”_
> 
> _“Foolish? People are dying around us, Asra! How can I abandon them when they need help?” I asked, gathering all the magical herbs I knew would be worthwhile to use, “Dr. Devorak thinks he’s close to finding a cure and these herbs reduce--.”_
> 
> “Io!”
> 
> _I was cut off by his frantic shout and stopped by his hands on my elbows, forced to look into his manic, violet eyes. “What--?”_
> 
> _“If you stay here, you could get sick,” he went on, his hands --rough but soft and smelling of gentle floral lotion-- dragging up my arms to my shoulders, “Let’s just leave, travel the world together. Just the two of us.”_
> 
> _A low blow. He knew that I had always wanted to travel with him, from the first moment I found out the orphaned boy stowed away on merchant ships, how my heart longed to go with him and how it ached when he was far away; but, I had Auntie back then and, after she passed, I had to take care of the shop._
> 
> _I yanked out of his grip, pissed that he’d try to blatantly manipulate me like that. “Don’t you dare,” I warned with a harsh glare that had him balking; I ran my hand through my short hair before slinging my bag across my body, “We have a duty to the people here, Asra. We grew up here, my family’s shop is almost as old as the Countess’ bloodline-- I will not run away from here!”_

I wish we hadn’t fought, that I could write him a letter to tell him… to tell him I wasn’t angry, that I was sorry, that I loved him. I wouldn’t tell him that I was scared, that I was dying, that I wanted him to hold me --as he had done countless of times before-- so that his  face would be the last thing I saw. But maybe he would have been able to tell all that anyway; he always seemed to read me as easily as reading a book, almost too easily, but I loved him all the same.

Had I ever told him that? If I did, had I said it enough?

I hacked, tears burning my eyes and, when they slid down my cheeks, they were pink with blood; I could smell burning flesh, hear the crackling and spitting coming from the crematorium, but --beyond that-- I could hear a faint, familiar whisper. Death stood at the foot of my bed, skulled face impassive as they came to me as they were depicted in Asra’s tarot deck. Although their appearance wasn’t pleasant or soft, I wasn’t scared.

 _“It… is… your… time…”_ they whispered, just as they did amongst the deck, only I could hear them so much clearer. Death did not lie, I could clearly feel my body falling apart, fire demanding to be fed my remains, ovens huffing smoke. A macabre representation of my fate.

I rested my hand on my sunken chest, counted the ribs beneath my fingers, inhaled the putrid air and gazed at the red tinted image of my fellow patients. So this was the end? At last I nodded, even though Death did not need my consent. They stepped forward and my eyes fluttered closed, my cracked lips trembling as I struggle to form words. I hope, in some way, they’ll be able to reach him. To reach Asra. “I’m… sorry…”

Death paused, staring at me with their hands twitching at their side. They tilted their head and whispered, _“Your… message… I will… consider… trying to… deliver it…”_

“...Thank you…”


	2. Part Ⅱ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… Io was infected and… taken to the Lazaret,” Julian stammered as he backed up against his desk in the library, shrinking under the magician's intense eyes, seeing some darkness there that had him shuddering in fear. Asra felt it, the emptiness in his veins slowly heating up, something replacing his blood and despair. “I didn’t find out until today--.”
> 
> He didn’t find out until today?! How could he not know? Io was working with him! The rage flooded in, filling his veins and moving his limbs, and Asra snapped, shoving the books off a nearby table with a desperate, angry cry. “What?!”

His world was falling apart, that was what he was feeling. The floor had fallen out from beneath him and he felt as if he was being bled out, he felt as if he were floating above his body, looking down at the nightmare that was being played out. _This has to be a dream, a cruel nightmare,_ Asra frantically thought, but even that posed a problem; dreams could be premonitions of the future, he knew… _My heart is breaking either way…_ “What…?”

“I… Io was infected and… taken to the Lazaret,” Julian stammered as he backed up against his desk in the library, shrinking under the magician's intense eyes, seeing some darkness there that had him shuddering in fear. Asra felt it, the emptiness in his veins slowly heating up, something replacing his blood and despair. “I didn’t find out until today--.”

_He didn’t find out until today?!_ _How could he not know? Io was working with him!_ The rage flooded in, filling his veins and moving his limbs, and Asra snapped, shoving the books off a nearby table with a desperate, angry cry. _“What?!”_

 “I-- Asra--.”

“Not. Now!” he hissed, gathering up his shawl and bag, mind frantically spinning all the while. Io was sick, he was sick with the plague. _Which had no known cure._ “Go back to work. I have to go.”

_“Asra!”_

He wasn’t listening, concentrating on trying not to hyperventilate in panic and replaying Io’s face in his head, over and over, how he looked the last time they really spoke to each other. When they argued about rather or not they should stay. _Io’s sick, he’s--._

_I have to find a boat._

* * *

They gave him a mask and led him past bedridden plague victims, covered in their own vomit and blood, and through the crematorium --the walls were stained black by burnt human remains, the smell of flesh and crackling bone, fire and smoke, making the air too heavy to breathe --to the door leading out to the black stained sand of the beach. “We ran out of the manpower and space to bury the deceased,” the portly nurse said, her muffled voice rather sympathetic even through the mask, “We put his ashes here. I’ll give you two some privacy.”

 A cold, other worldly chill settled in his bones and the dread, the panic, drained away as the magician stared… and stared… and stared at the small lump that was his love’s final resting place. _How can somebody so big --big heart, big personality, big smile, big potential-- take up so little space?_ As soon as the nurse disappeared back into that cursed, looming building --filled with wails and moans of agony, death-- Asra fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, coated with sticky dirt and sand, to smother the sounds of his sobs. _He’s here, he’s here, he’s--._

_I need what’s left._ With shaking hands, Asra threw open his bag, hardly breathy as he searched for something. Something that he could-- at the bottom of his satchel was a jar of fresh cinnamon sticks that he had intended to be a gift for Io. As an apology. He loves -loved -loves cinnamon in his hot chocolate. Now, Asra didn’t hesitate to toss them into the blackened sand before he sunk his fingers into the dirt and sand that hid Io’s ashes. It got beneath his nails but he paid it no heed, reaching out with his magic to try and find even a trace of Io’s familiar magic, the way it felt mingling with his own, how it made him _feel--._ Asra felt it tingle and almost sobbed in relief (he did, his tears falling into the dirt and turning it to mud); he grabbed fistfuls of what tingled with Io’s magic.

_His bones, his muscles, his flesh, they burnt everything,_ Asra thought as he mindlessly, frantically, gathered all he could into the jar. He didn’t stop until his fingers ached and his nails bled and he had gathered every speck of ash, every splintered, burnt shard of bone and tooth. The magician’s eyes stung but he felt driven mad by purpose, obsession. _I have to get him back, I have to. I can’t live without-- I can’t, not after he’s worked his way to the core of me, not now, not now that I--!_

_I’ll do anything to get him back._


	3. Part Ⅲ

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Countess had never seen him so desperate, so unlike himself. She knew that Asra was deeply, unmistakably, in love with his apprentice but she could never have guessed the extent. Their happiness seemed so natural that she hadn’t even thought of it very much. It was as if they were stuck in each other’s orbit and happy to exist like that. The loss sat heavy in her breast --for the kind hearted Io and, now, it seemed, Asra was slowly following him to the afterlife. She never thought that he would even entertain such--. 
> 
> “Nadi… Nadi, please. Please.”

It was late as Countess Nadia sipped her a glass of wine on her balcony, the bright plumage of a bird occasionally streaking across the dark garden before disappearing. A headache gnawed at her temples and, sadly, it was starting to become routine. Even on a good day her husband tended to be insufferable, but was even more so as he deteriorated due to the Plague. She was not without sympathy, but the illness was affecting him so much more slowly than it did the others; a part of her wished for it to simply run its course --it was a selfish thought but she didn’t shy away from the ugly reality. But her “beloved husband” was not the only cause of restlessness for her that night. Chandra trilled as she swooped by, elegant wings extending as she landing on the railing in front of the Countess; her feathers were ruffled and, upon meeting Chandra’s galaxy-black eyes, she felt a wave of sympathy directed her way. The woman smiled sadly; her unease only seemed to magnify by the minute.  _ Something is wrong. Terribly--.  _

“C-Countess, I apologize but the Magician--.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she said, pulling her robe closer to her body as she stood and faced the doors, “Please give us some privacy.”

“Y-Yes, Countess.”

Almost as soon as the servant was gone, Asra appeared looking gaunt and miserable. It looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks with dark circles under his eyes and an ashed face; it didn’t look like he had bathed, either, with tangled, greasy hair and dirt smudged on his clothes, skin and embedded deep beneath his nails. Faust was curled around his shoulders and was flicking the end of her tail anxiously.

“Asra… what happened?”

“He’s-- he’s gone, Nadi. He’s just…  _ gone,” _ the magician rapsed, tears falling out of his already red and irritated eyes. Faust nuzzled his dirty cheek, trying to comfort him but she was just as grieved as her human, her lithe snake body tense and jittery.

Nadia pressed her lips together. Julian had told her in passing about Io’s death; he had been anxious and not just because Lucio had him running around all day as per usual. She wondered if it was because of Asra’s…  _ “unhinged” _ behavior. “I know, my dear,” she said, not unkindly, holding out her jewelled hands, “Come sit with me and we shall--.”

He tossed his head, hair flying in his face, and his eyes wide and wild. “No, Nadia. I’ve been looking all over for this and-- I found a way to solve our problems! All of them!”

“Asra--.”

“Not without a price, but--!”

_ “Asra! _ Do you not grasp the weight of this?” she snapped, causing Chandra to squawk worriedly, “What you’re suggesting is not something mere mortals should dabble in.”

“It’s… I revised the spells so it’s not--” he cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration --Faust booped his nose in something that may have been a kiss; Asra gave the snake a watery, almost-smile in return, “I can’t go on without him, Nadi. He’s my-- I love him. I’d give up my left arm, my eyes, my  _ heart  _ just to have him back… he is -was -is the only reason it beats anyway…”

The Countess had never seen him so desperate, so unlike himself. She knew that Asra was deeply, unmistakably, in love with his apprentice but she could never have guessed the extent. Their happiness seemed so natural that she hadn’t even thought of it very much. It was as if they were stuck in each other’s orbit and happy to exist like that. The loss sat heavy in her breast --for the kind hearted Io and, now, it seemed, Asra was slowly following him to the afterlife. She never thought that he would even entertain such--. 

“Nadi… Nadi, please.  _ Please.” _

The Countess took a deep breath, looking back at Chandra. Galaxy-black eyes looked back at her, blinking slowly. Calmly.  _ I never thought he would… _ The owl bowed her head. “What do you plan to do?” 


End file.
